My Gambling System: Chaos Engine

Chapter 2A: The Pit

Joseph wiped the black water from his eyes. He took a step. Pain shot up his left leg. It felt like a hot knife twisting inside his muscle. He gasped, but he did not stop.

He could not stop.

Joseph looked down at his leg. His pants were torn. A dark stain of blood mixed with the rain. He had escaped the debt collectors, but he had not escaped unhurt. He limped past a burning trash can. Three men stood around the fire. They watched him with hungry eyes. Joseph kept his head down. He gripped his side.

He needed money. He needed a lot of money, and he needed it tonight. Elara was gone. The Syndicate had her. The ransom was high. If he did not pay by sunrise, they would hurt her.

He stopped in front of a dirty metal door. A neon sign flickered above it. It buzzed like an angry fly. The sign said: GRIX’S PARTS & PAWNS.

Joseph pushed the door open. A bell rang. The shop smelled like rubbing alcohol and burnt meat.

Old Man Grix sat behind a glass counter. He was a small man with mechanical fingers. He was polishing a glass eye with a dirty rag. He looked up at Joseph.

"You look like trash, Joe," Grix said. His voice was scratchy.

"I need credits," Joseph said. He leaned on the counter to keep from falling. "Fast credits."

Grix laughed. It was a dry, cold sound. "You have nothing. Your clothes are rags. You are bleeding on my floor."

Joseph reached into his pocket. His hand shook. He pulled out a small, blue plastic card. It was the key to his apartment. It was a tiny room, but it was safe. It was warm. It was the only thing he owned.

"My unit access," Joseph said. "Paid for the next six months."

Grix took the card. He looked at it. He sniffed. "This is in Sector 4. A bad area. Not worth much."

"It is all I have," Joseph said.

"It gets you five hundred credits," Grix said.

Joseph slammed his hand on the glass. "The buy-in for The Pit is two thousand! I need two thousand!"

Grix shrugged. He tossed the card back. "Then go away, Joe."

Joseph closed his eyes. He thought of Elara. He thought of her smile. He thought of the way she laughed when he made a bad joke. He took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. It made his stomach turn.

"Take my interface," Joseph whispered.

Grix stopped polishing the glass eye. He looked at Joseph with interest. "Your neural link? The one behind your ear?"

"Yes."

"And the sensory boosters?" Grix asked. "The ones that let you see data streams? The ones that help you do math fast?"

"Yes," Joseph said. His voice cracked. "Take them. All of them."

This was suicide for a man like Joseph. He was a numbers guy. He used those implants to work, to calculate, to survive in the digital city. Without them, he would be slow. He would be just a normal human. He would be blind to the digital world.

"For the apartment and the implants..." Grix smiled. It was a greedy smile. "I will give you two thousand and fifty credits."

"Do it," Joseph said. "Now."

Grix pointed to a rusty metal chair in the corner. "Sit."

Joseph sat. The leather was cold. Grix walked over with a tray of tools. There was no anesthesia. There was no painkiller. Grix picked up a small laser scalpel and a pair of silver pliers.

"Hold still," Grix said.

The laser touched the skin behind Joseph’s ear.

Joseph screamed.

The pain was white and blinding. It felt like someone was pulling his brain out through his skull. He gritted his teeth so hard he thought they would break. He felt the metal chip slide out of his head. Then, Grix moved to his eyes. He used a tool to disconnect the sensory boosters. The world flickered. The bright neon lights of the shop became dull. The scrolling text he usually saw in the air vanished.

The world became flat. It became analog.

"Done," Grix said.

He handed Joseph a towel. Joseph pressed it to his bleeding ear. He felt dizzy. He felt empty. A part of his mind was gone.

Grix tossed a heavy plastic chip onto the counter. It was black with a gold skull on it.

"Two thousand credits," Grix said. "And fifty for a drink."

Joseph grabbed the chip. He stood up. The room spun. He steadied himself.

"Pleasure doing business," Grix said, turning back to his work.

Joseph did not answer. He limped out into the rain. He had the money. He was half-blind and in agony, but he was going to The Pit.

The entrance to The Pit was hidden inside an old subway station. Two massive guards stood by the gate. They wore heavy armor. Their faces were covered by helmets with glowing red slits for eyes.

Joseph walked up to them. He held up the black chip with the gold skull.

The guard on the right scanned it. Beep.

"You look like you are dying, little man," the guard rumbled. "You sure you want to go in? You won't come out."

"Let me in," Joseph said.

The gate hissed open.

Joseph stepped inside. The noise hit him like a physical punch.

The Pit was a cavern of madness. It was huge. Holograms of dancing girls and spinning gold coins filled the air. Music thumped so loud it vibrated in Joseph's chest. The air was hot and smelled of sweat, cheap perfume, and ozone.

Hundreds of people crowded around tables. Some were rich, wearing silk suits and digital masks. Some were poor, desperate souls like Joseph, wearing rags. They all had the same look in their eyes: greed and fear.

Joseph navigated through the crowd. He held his side. His leg throbbed. He ignored the roulette wheels. He ignored the holographic poker tables. He needed a game where skill mattered more than luck. Even without his implants, he still had his brain. He still knew probability.

He found it in the back corner.

Dead Man’s Dice.

It was a simple game. A brutal game.

Joseph sat at the steel table. There were three other players.

One was a nervous boy, no older than eighteen. He was shaking.

One was a woman with green hair and a robotic arm. She looked angry.

One was a fat man who was sweating profusely.

The dealer was a droid. It had no face, just a speaker.

"Buy in," the droid buzzed.

Joseph placed his chip on the sensor. The table lit up. His balance appeared on a small screen: 2,000 Credits.

"The game is Dead Man’s Dice," the droid announced. "Two dice. High roll wins the pot. Low roll takes the shock. Minimum bet: 100 credits."

Joseph nodded. He looked at the table. There were metal plates where their hands rested.

"Place your hands," the droid said.

Joseph put his hands on the metal plates. Clamps snapped down, locking his wrists to the table. He was trapped.

"Round one," the droid said.

The digital dice in the center of the table spun.

Joseph watched the numbers. Without his implants, he couldn't see the algorithm. He couldn't predict the spin perfectly. He had to use mental math. He had to watch the patterns.

The fat man is betting high, Joseph thought. The boy is scared.

The dice stopped.

Joseph: 8.

Fat Man: 10.

Green Hair: 6.

Nervous Boy: 3.

"Low roll," the droid said. "Player Four."

The nervous boy screamed. ZAP!

Blue electricity shot through the metal plates into the boy’s hands. His body jerked. His eyes rolled back. The smell of burnt hair drifted across the table.

"Winner: Player Two," the droid said. The fat man raked in the credits.

Joseph took a breath. He had lost his bet, but he hadn't taken the shock. That was good. He needed to be patient.

The game continued.

Round five. Joseph bet small. He rolled a 9. The fat man rolled a 4.

ZAP! The fat man howled.

Round ten. Joseph saw a pattern. The dice favored the number 7 every fourth spin. It was a tiny flaw in the program. He waited.

Round twelve. This was it. Joseph pushed his stack forward. "Five hundred credits," he said.

The Green Hair woman looked at him. "You're crazy, bleeder."

The dice spun. Joseph closed his eyes. He counted the seconds. One. Two. Three.

The dice stopped.

Joseph: 11.

Green Hair: 5.

ZAP! The woman convulsed as the electricity hit her. She slumped in her chair, smoke rising from her metal arm.

"Winner: Player One," the droid said.

Joseph’s balance ticked up. 2,800 Credits.

It was working. He played conservatively. He took small losses to avoid the shocks. He let the others fry. He watched the boy run out of money and get dragged away by guards. He watched the fat man pass out from the pain.

Hour by hour, Joseph ground them down. His leg was screaming in pain. His head throbbed from the surgery. But his pile of credits grew.

3,500.

4,200.

5,000.

He needed ten thousand to pay the ransom. He was halfway there.

He was tired. His vision blurred. He just needed a few more good hands.

"Next round," the droid said.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the table. The music in the club seemed to get quieter. The people standing nearby stepped back.

A voice, deep and smooth like velvet, spoke from behind Joseph.

"That is a boring way to play, little mouse."

Joseph froze. He knew that voice. Everyone in the Zero District knew that voice.